


It's Not What You Think

by FangQueen



Category: 19天 - Old先 | 19 Days - Old Xian
Genre: Aged Up/High School AU, Chapter 190 AU, Denial of Feelings, Denial of Sexuality, M/M, Masturbation, Pining, Present Tense, UST, Using saliva as lube, sexual awakenings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-15
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-24 18:56:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9780602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FangQueen/pseuds/FangQueen
Summary: There’s really no conceivable reason why he’s still wearing He Tian’s jacket.





	

**Author's Note:**

> It’s finally happened: I’ve written a 19 Days fic. Lord help me. I got this idea from the moment I read that chapter, and it just wouldn’t leave me alone until I put it to paper.

There’s really no conceivable reason why he’s still wearing He Tian’s jacket, while lounging on his stomach on his bed, playing a game on his phone, having gotten home safely quite some time ago. No conceivable reason other than he’s still a little chilly, and it wasn’t like he could wear his _own_ jacket after the boy himself--the fucking idiot that he was--had bled all over it. He’d told him no, but the guy had insisted, and, well, now he’s too comfortable to take it off.

Comfortable. A weird word to describe how wearing another dude’s jacket feels. A jacket that _reeks_ of He Tian’s brand of cigarettes, so much so that the scent completely invades his nostrils and makes it nearly impossible for him to smell anything else. He wants to turn his nose up at it, but finds, eventually, that he doesn’t exactly mind it. Which is why he’s currently madly tapping away at the screen in front of him: to distract himself from that thought specifically.

Not just that thought. Also the feeling of He Tian’s fingers caressing his shoulders as he forced the jacket onto him. Of his palm bopping the back of his head as he walked away. Of his chest tightening when he heard it recounted, the story of how Tian defended him earlier today…

He tosses his phone down onto the bed as a brief surge of anger courses through him. Anger at _himself_ for thinking about such things so obsessively. His hands fly to his eyes, digging the heels into them as if they’re capable of rubbing out every annoying image of He Tian from his brain. He knows it’s impossible; he’s tried several other times recently, all to no avail.

The smell of smoke is even stronger at the wrists, he notices just then. Makes sense, they’re closest to the cigarettes, after all. He finds himself holding them to his nose, sniffing, without really knowing why, and recoils once he realizes he’s doing it. But then he’s at it again a couple seconds later, his brow furrowing. Is there something else under that, that he’s smelling? Mint, or something like it. Is that remnants of the soap He Tian uses? He sniffs it again and decides that yes, that’s probably it. It’s good, actually, he likes it, which is odd, but--

Oh. Oh fuck, is he...Is he _getting hard over this_?! The realization hits him, and he starts. He was just imagining He Tian using that same soap...in the shower. There’s absolutely no reason at all for him to be thinking about _that_. Although, it’s probably a pretty picture--not that he would know! He’s not into guys. But He Tian is, well, attractive enough. For a...guy...

He intends to pull the fabric away again, but somehow he _can’t_. Even as he feels his dick stirring, feels the disgusted sensation in his belly at the knowledge of that fact, he can’t stop himself. This is wrong, but...There’s a musk on it as well. Something spicy. Cologne, maybe? He presses the collar to his nose and inhales deeply, unable to help the lusty groan that rumbles in his chest. He grinds his hips into the mattress beneath him and discovers that he’s properly hard now. The motion causes him to moan again at the tingling of nerves in his shaft. At this point, there’s no use denying it...Before he can talk himself out of it, he slips a hand down underneath him, fumbling with the waistband of his track pants till he’s able to wrap his fingers around the hot, velvety skin of his erection.

This is totally normal, right? Of course it is! He jacks off all the time! What teenaged boy _doesn’t_? He tries to tell himself that it’s just because he tends to do it at this time of day anyway, that his body is functioning on a schedule. That it has nothing to do with He Tian’s jacket, nor the heavenly smells emanating from it…

He starts off at a relatively even pace. Long, languid strokes, following up every so often with a circuit of the head. The precome leaking from the tip assists in lubricating the way--and in arousing him further. He bites back a moan. His mom is home, and he doesn’t want to risk her hearing him if he keeps making a racket. Besides, he’s just jerking it; no reason to make a big deal out of it. It’s just about getting off as well as possible. He conjures up an image of one of the hotter girls from his class and gets to it.

Usually he tries to draw it out a bit--makes it a lot better in the end--but another whiff of the collar urges him on. Soon he’s laying one side of his head upon the pillow in front of him, while simultaneously lifting his ass a little more into the air, to give himself easier access. His hips get into a rhythm of their own, and he quickly falls into thrusting wantonly into the circle his fist makes. He’s leaking onto the inside of his boxers now, but he’s loving the way the clothing is rubbing his head, so he doesn’t bother to move it. He tries to keep his imagination trained on that one girl, as if she’s under him, and there’s _something else entirely_ that he’s currently fucking. It doesn’t work. Truth be told, it hasn’t for a long time. And especially not now, with the near tangible _scent of He Tian_ floating around him. The girl is easily replaced with a snippet of the guy himself, lathering that minty soap over his toned body, droplets of water rolling over his shoulders, his chest, and onwards...

Oh god, he can feel it, he’s so close. He’s teetering on that cliff, his balls drawing up against him, and--

His phone buzzes next to his pillow. He momentarily chokes on his breath, and his hand stops, holding him precariously on the edge. His eyes blink open to stare at the suddenly illuminated screen, and he strongly considers ignoring it till he’s really finished. But then he catches sight of the name at the top of the notification, and he quickly grabs it and swipes it open.

_Hey~ what are you doing?_

_Fucking my hand to the smell of your jacket_ , is the first thing that flits through his mind--because, well, it _does_ happen to be the correct answer--but of course he doesn’t type that. Instead, he lays perfectly still until the shameful heat in his cheeks subsides somewhat, and his thumb is no longer trembling over the keyboard. It _is_ just like this guy, to text him _right now_ , as if they’re psychically-linked. Although, he rarely leaves Guan Shan alone for any extended period of time anymore, so maybe it’s not as unusual as all that.

Willing away embarrassment, he hastily sends a rudely-worded reply and tosses the thing back onto its spot on the mattress, ready to continue where he left off, albeit less certain about it now than at the start. He doesn’t get far, however, because, quicker than he’d expected, his phone is vibrating again, and this time he snatches it up with a frustrated growl.

It takes much longer than it really should for him to register what he’s seeing. He blinks dumbly at the screen, taking in the sight before him as if seeing such a thing for the first time. Then recognition finally reaches his brain, that this is a picture of _He Tian’s dick_ he’s looking at, and he springs into action, jumping up from his previously relaxed position and aiming his phone at the opposite wall.

The device clatters--thankfully unshattered--onto the floor. Soon after comes a knock at his door, his mother’s voice trickling in from the hall to ask if he’s alright. It’s only then that he registers the swear he’d shouted when he threw it. He manages to shoo her off with a rather lame excuse. Then he collapses back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling and trying to get himself under control. Why the fuck did he send him _that_?! There’s no reason for it, as far as he’s concerned! That’s just...gross...

The problem is--he realizes as he’s raking his hands through his cropped hair in irritation--that he’s _still hard_ …Still hard, even with a picture of He Tian’s fucking dick now burned into his brain. Tian _wasn’t_ \--hard, that is, in the picture. But it’s...He’d never seen it before, and he’d already been thinking about it, and now...

He groans and rubs his palms across his face. He considers, hesitates, then decides.

His right hand is gripping his dick once more, while the other pushes his pants and underwear down to just below his balls. He pumps himself vigorously, flicking his wrist at the end of each stroke in that way he knows will easily speeds things along--the goal, this time, being to get himself off as quickly as possible and stop this madness. He attempts to block his mind, to think about nothing else but the feeling inside him of climbing closer and closer to orgasm. But then the sleeve of the jacket he’s still wearing brushes against his hipbone, and he fails miserably.

All he can see now, behind his squeezed-shut lids, is He Tian’s dark eyes gazing up at him from his lap. All he can feel is He Tian’s pitch black hair brushing against him, instead of the clothing, as he parts his lips and lowers them towards the swollen, purple head. His dick throbs pitifully in his fist as he imagines his classmate sucking the tip between them, swirling his tongue against the slit as he mewls and arches, begging for _more_. He pauses momentarily to spit into his palm, then resumes, pretending that it’s _He Tian’s_ saliva coating his length, rather than his own. Those lips are soft; he remembers that from The Kiss a couple days ago, and he thinks to himself that they’d probably feel _amazing_ on his dick. He runs the fingertips of his free hand over his own mouth, revelling in the memory, and at the yet unfulfilled fantasies it’s currently sparking. At the time, he’d pushed him away. But now it’s all he can think about: how they felt, He Tian’s lips. About his tongue forcing it’s way into his mouth. He shifts for a moment, and suddenly a fresh wave of scents from the jacket flutter around him, and he’s too far gone to come back now. He’s surrounded, enveloped by the smell, the taste, even the _sound_ of He Tian--as if he’s whispering impossibly dirty things in between swallowing Guan Shan’s cock, in that silky, teasing voice of his...

He’s back at that edge faster than he’d expected to be. Like a freight train, he feels the familiar rush of excitement through his veins, the clench of his thighs and buttocks as he thrusts up, his hips leaving the bed completely. He scrambles to yank the front of his shirt up his chest and out of the way. Yes, there, _right there_ , and he’ll--his stomach twists forcefully when he realizes he’s about to come to thoughts of a _dude_. A dude sucking him off. But he’s not gay! He’s not gay, he’s not gay, he’s not--

He comes so hard he sees stars. He shoves a forefinger between his teeth to keep from crying out as the opposite hand wrings every last drop out of his pulsing member, sighing around the digit in utter relief as he feels the hot liquid spurt into his belly button. A feeble little “ _Fuck_ …” escapes his throat as he convulses for the final time, gradually lowering himself back to the bed. He’s panting, his vision swimming a bit when he finally opens his eyes again. The afterglow only lasts so long, however, before it occurs to him, what he’s just done…

After a minute or two, when the now cold wetness on his stomach grows uncomfortable, he maneuvers awkwardly off the bed and towards his hamper, cupping a hand under the mess to prevent it from dripping. With a dirty sock, he wipes himself clean, then hides it at the bottom of the basket and hikes up his pants. In the process, he notices that a small dot of spunk had landed on the hem of the jacket, and he blushes and licks the pad of his thumb in order to scrub it off.

The phone is on the floor beside him, inches from his toes. He looks down at it with a mixture of anxiety and guilt, then bends to tap the home button. No new messages. Really, Tian? Send a guy a dick pic, and then not say anything about it? Maybe he’s embarrassed himself? No, that’s too human for him. It’s probably for the best, though, because Guan Shan wasn’t sure what he’d say back at this point. He’d just come to the thought of the dude’s mouth on his dick...But it does something to him, to think that Tian wouldn’t think to say anything else. His chest tightens.

He picks up the phone and hurriedly types an offended response, one typical of his usually brazen mouth. He doesn’t breathe for several excruciatingly long seconds--until he feels it buzz in his hand and sees a new message pop up on the open screen.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos/comments = <3!
> 
> Come find me on [Tumblr](https://ohlookagaydraco.tumblr.com/) and [LJ](http://fangqueen.livejournal.com/) as well!


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